


break the night with colour

by thilia



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 17:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilia/pseuds/thilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years after the end of One Direction, Zayn leads a secluded life far away from fame. He thinks he's perfectly happy – until a part of his old life shows up on his doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	break the night with colour

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for 1d_olymfics on LJ, inspired by [this prompt](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lyq7h6BoAo1qkjbr0o1_500.jpg). I don't know what's going on with the fest or if they're ever going to post the reveals, so... here's my contribution. The title is from a [song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYOqQlUaMlM) by Richard Ashcroft. 
> 
> Thanks to sophi3g for betaing and britpicking.

He slowly trailed the tip of the brush through the thick paint, mixing blue and yellow into a light green colour before looking up at the white canvas positioned in front of him. Holding the brush up, he hesitated for a moment before figuring out how to start and lightly moving the tip of the thick brush over the white surface.

The first stroke of the brush was always the hardest, but once he started painting, the rest came automatically as he felt the familiar calm and serenity wash over him and lost himself in his art. 

Painting was the only thing he did these days, having given up music almost entirely. Professionally, anyway. He did still write songs, still played the guitar occasionally and sang to himself, but he was no longer part of the industry, unlike the rest of his former band mates. 

Niall was still a successful musician. He'd moved back to Ireland after the end of One Direction and had pursued his musical career over there, playing in small clubs there and in the UK. Liam still sang as well, but after a few years, he'd started writing and producing music as well, and was mostly busy doing that these days. His charm and great sense of humour had earned Louis his own radio show. He hosted television shows occasionally but he was on the radio every day and while he still sang sometimes, he mostly _talked_ about music nowadays. 

And then, of course, there was Harry. 

Harry who had always had the potential to go very far in life, even more than the rest of them, and who'd always been everyone's favourite, even when they'd still been a band, had launched his solo career after the breakup and was still successful worldwide and currently on the covers of every magazine.

Harry was who Zayn missed the most, when he allowed himself to think about his friends, and he made sure to keep up with Harry's life as much as possible. In order to not miss anything, he would have to spend all day and night online, since news or crazy rumours about the other man came out almost minutely; Zayn preferred to check some blogs about once or twice a week, which gave him a pretty good idea about the events in Harry's life.

They had all drifted apart a little in the past few years, which was what Zayn regretted most about the end of One Direction. Sure, he still missed performing sometimes; the rush he'd felt every time he'd gone on stage or interacted with fans, but more than that, he missed spending all his time with the other boys. He'd always hoped they would all stay friends forever – and they still _were_ – but they all had their own lives now and it wasn't possible for them to see each other more than a few times a year. They did meet up every once in a while for dinner; to discuss what was going on in their lives, to talk about the good old days. But it wasn't the same since they weren't together 24/7 anymore. Zayn often found himself remembering those times nostalgically. 

Focusing back on the painting he was working on, he smiled a little and shook his head. _Again_. He always ended up painting the same thing lately, and had a large number of very similar paintings of _him_.

He'd been working on this one for several hours when his doorbell rang. Blinking curiously, Zayn put aside his brush and glanced at the large clock on the wall thoughtfully, wondering who could visit him at this time. Not that the time was particularly odd – it was early evening now, which was still a perfectly acceptable time for a visit. 

The fact that someone was ringing his doorbell at _all_ was what was odd. 

Not many people knew where he lived. Even after One Direction had ended, paparazzi still paid them a lot of attention, always wanting to see what they got up to, waiting for them to do something stupid that they could get a snapshot of. And just like when they'd been on a break during the peak of their careers, Zayn liked to stay away from places where the press could easily find him. When they'd decided to end One Direction, he'd bought a house in a small village not too far away from Manchester, where people left him alone. 

He had friends, of course, and had made himself a home here, but it wasn't typical for someone to visit him unannounced in the middle of the day.

He liked it there, though; it was kind of idyllic and sparked his inspiration. 

He made his way downstairs to open the door, wiping his paint-covered hands on his equally stained jeans, and opened the door, expecting the intruder to be a neighbour asking for sugar, or a delivery person with a package for him. 

His brows shot up when he saw who it really was. 

"Harry?" he asked, surprise evident in his voice and expression. Harry was the last person he'd expected to see today – or anytime in the near future. Yet there he was, in the flesh, looking tired and worn and sad. He was wearing a hoodie and baggy jeans and looking nothing like the celebrity Zayn saw on the covers of the magazines. This wasn't the ever-cheerful pop star everyone else saw in him; this was the real Harry, or a broken-looking version of him. 

"Can I come in?" Harry asked, his voice sounding slightly raspy, his expression desperate. He kept looking over his shoulder anxiously as if he expected a guy with a camera to jump out of the bushes at any second. He looked extremely uncomfortable. Even if Zayn had wanted to say no – which he didn't – he couldn't have. 

"Of course, Harry," he said quietly, stepping aside and closing the door behind him when he'd entered his house, after checking that no one had seen him. If the paparazzi caught wind of Harry being here, all hell would break loose, and Zayn had a feeling that Harry had chosen to come here because he knew no one would look for him here. He looked like he could use some peace and quiet.

The door closed, Zayn turned back to Harry, watching him intently and waiting for him to say something. When nothing came, Zayn touched Harry's arm, biting his lip when Harry flinched a little. 

Their eyes met and Zayn gave him a tentative smile. "Do you want some coffee, tea? Something else?"

Harry nodded slowly, looking a little confused – as if the concept of drinking something was entirely foreign to him. "Tea sounds good," he said softly, his voice cracking a little. "Thank you," he added after a moment. 

"Sure," Zayn said quietly, still watching Harry curiously. He could tell that something was up with him – Harry wouldn't show up out of the blue without a reason. And by the looks of it, he hadn't brought anything with him, which was even odder. Zayn was intrigued; wanted to find out what was going on – but at the same time, he wanted to give Harry all the time he needed to broach the subject in his own time. He could imagine that the other man had come here because he knew Zayn wouldn't push him, and Zayn wasn't going to disappoint him.

He took him into the kitchen and made tea for both of them, washing his hands and scraping off the rapidly-drying paint as he waited for the water to boil. Fingers as clean as possible at this point, he dried his hands off and turned back to Harry. 

"I hope this isn't a bad time; that I wasn't interrupting you," he said softly, sounding worried, but Zayn shook his head immediately. 

"No, not at all. Don't worry about it. I was just painting; I can easily continue some other time. Need to let the first coat dry anyway, so… It's okay." 

The tea was ready, so Zayn poured two cups, sitting down across from Harry a moment later. 

"Thank you," Harry said quietly, reaching for his mug and sipping his tea in silence, eyes trained on the table in front of him. Zayn watched him thoughtfully, wondering what had happened to Harry. Even during their busiest days when they'd still been in the band, Harry had never looked this exhausted. It was worrisome, and the protective mother hen in Zayn wanted to know whose arse he had to kick for making Harry work this much. But he didn't ask. Not now.

They drank their tea in silence, and Zayn didn't mind. He was used to it; being on his own so much, he rarely talked to anyone for days. He was curious, yes, but he would give Harry the time he needed to open up to him.

Done with his tea, Harry leaned back and pushed his curls back, staring out the window at the darkening sky. "Can I stay here for a couple of days?" he asked, his voice almost hesitant as he turned his head to meet Zayn's eyes. "Only if I'm not bothering, though – I wouldn't want to impose on anyone. I just… I just need a break."

Zayn nodded instantly, reaching over to touch Harry's arm gently. "Of course, Harry, you can stay as long as you want. You could never bother me."

Harry nodded, looking relieved. "Thank you," he said, then added, "I just really need a break from everything, and yours was the first place I could think of where I'd get away from it all. I would've called but it was kind of a spontaneous decision, so…"

He trailed off and Zayn nodded. "I get it – really, it's no problem, Haz. Don't worry about it."

Harry nodded, giving him a grateful little smile. He rubbed his face tiredly and Zayn squeezed his arm. "You look like you need some rest – let me show you to the guestroom." He paused. "Did you bring anything?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I just kind of… took off and drove here. Didn't think that far."

Zayn nodded. "That's all right; you can borrow some of my stuff while you're here."

Harry smiled gratefully, and got to his feet when Zayn stood up. Zayn showed him to his room, pointing out the bathroom on their way there; then he went to his own room and got Harry some clothes, pyjamas, towels, a spare toothbrush; anything he could think of that Harry might need while he stayed here.

He set everything down on Harry's bed, then rubbed the back of his neck, stepping back. "If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask for it, all right? And if you need me, I'm around. Just call and I'll be there."

"Thank you, Zayn," Harry said, looking relieved and grateful, and Zayn couldn't suppress the disconcerting feeling that something was seriously wrong here. He wanted to ask Harry about it, but wasn't going to. If Harry wanted to tell him, he would.

He hesitated for a moment, then took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him into a tight hug. Harry tensed briefly, clearly uncomfortable, but it didn't take long for him to relax into the embrace. Zayn closed his eyes and breathed in Harry's familiar scent while Harry buried his face in Zayn's neck, clinging to him.

The hug lasted for several minutes before Zayn drew back. He studied Harry's face, meeting his eyes and silently giving him the opportunity to say something, if he wanted to, but Harry lowered his eyes for a moment, which Zayn took as his cue to leave.

"All right. I'll give you some privacy then. Goodnight, Harry."

He nodded and stepped back, waving awkwardly before leaving the room. He stood outside Harry's door for a moment, not sure what to do. He felt like he should stick around, just in case Harry needed him all of a sudden, but he also didn't want it to look like he wasn't respecting Harry's obvious need for privacy. In the end, he went back to his studio in the attic and cleaned up a little. He couldn't focus on painting right now, too worried about Harry to clear his mind. When he'd washed his brushes and put everything in order, he made his way back downstairs to read. He had a hard time focusing, however, and couldn't stop wondering about Harry and trying to figure out why he was here. 

At the same time, he couldn't suppress the feeling of pride that spread warmly through his body when he realised that Harry had come to _him_. He was evidently going through a bit of a hard time, and the fact that he'd chosen Zayn to spend that time with was heart-warming; made him feel special. They'd always had a very particular connection and the fact that that special friendship was apparently still intact after all these years and spending so much time apart was amazing. 

Harry didn't resurface for the rest of the night, and when Zayn went to check on him when he was about to head to bed himself, he found Harry asleep in the guestroom. Zayn took a moment to look at him, taking him in, and couldn't help but notice how small and vulnerable Harry looked. It had been years since he'd seen him like this; Harry always looked strong and confident, but right now he just seemed kind of fragile.

It took a long time for Zayn to fall asleep that night as he wracked his brain to figure out what could've happened to Harry. But in the end, there was no way of knowing, and all he could do was wait for Harry to be ready to talk about it.

~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~

When Zayn entered the kitchen the next morning, he was surprised to find Harry up and about, bustling through the kitchen to make coffee and the most amazing-smelling breakfast. He raised his brows in surprise as he watched Harry, who looked a lot better than the previous night. A good night's sleep could obviously do wonders.

"Good morning!" Harry said, giving him a little smile when he noticed him. "I hope you don't mind I got started on breakfast; thought I'd do something for you to thank you for your hospitality."

Zayn smiled, walking over to the stove and peering into a couple of pans. "You didn't have to do that, Harry – but thanks. It looks fantastic."

Harry looked pleased at the compliment, then made Zayn sit down as he served him. He poured them some tea and coffee, and Zayn looked over the table. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such a breakfast spread. 

Silence fell over them as they dug in. Harry's cooking skills were still what they used to be, and Zayn sighed contentedly. When he was on his own, he didn't often bother with cooking; usually, a bowl of cereal in the morning was enough for him. But this was a nice change, and secretly, he had to admit that he could get used to this really fast. Having Harry around was kind of nice. 

"So, what do you want to do today?" he asked after a moment, shovelling some more food into his mouth. 

Harry shook his head. "Oh – whatever. We don't have to do anything, really, I don't want to disrupt your routine. I'll just grab a book and stay silent while you do whatever it is you do."

He paused. "What _do_ you do all day long? I didn't see much of the village when I arrived last night, but it doesn't look like there's a lot to do around here."

Zayn shrugged. "I paint, mostly," he answered, swallowing. "Paint, go for long walks, read… nothing special. I don't really have a routine, to be honest, and Harry – you really aren't intruding. I'm glad you're here."

Harry's face lit up at that, and Zayn returned his smile warmly. "Would you like to join me for a walk maybe? Some fresh air wouldn't hurt either of us." 

"A walk sounds nice," Harry admitted after considering it for a moment, but he seemed hesitant. "But… is it safe? I mean…"

He bit his lip, but Zayn knew what he meant. "Yeah, don't worry about it. People here are discreet about that sort of thing. They're not going to call the press when they see you, don't worry. I'm sure most of them don't even know you. It's kind of sheltered here, and people have bigger problems than who tops the charts in the US every week." He gave him a smile. "They treat me like a regular guy, so I doubt they'd make a fuss about you." He paused. "You know what I mean, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah… that's nice, actually. Being able to just go out without a bodyguard or worrying that someone's gonna bother you. Must be nice to just be away from it all."

Zayn nodded. "It is."

He gave him another smile, then set his cup down when he'd finished his tea. They cleaned up together, and then went to their respective rooms to put on some clothes. Ten minutes later, they left the house on their way through the village. 

"It's lovely here," Harry said after they'd walked in silence for a while. "I can see why you like it."

Zayn nodded, looking around. "It is. I found it by accident while I was driving around, just trying to get away from London, and I just kind of stayed here afterwards. It feels like home, you know?"

Harry nodded; he seemed to understand. 

Another moment of silence followed before Harry spoke again. "Doesn't it get lonely sometimes, though? I mean, I don't want to assume you haven't made any friends here – I'm sure you have. But it's still quite a bit away from your family and everything you used to know – doesn't it get lonely?"

"It does," Zayn said softly. "Sometimes. I spend a lot of time on my own, but not because I have to. If I wanted to, I could be around people every day but… The solitude is kind of comforting, to be honest. We've spent years in the spotlight, and after that, I was just tired of having someone around all the time. I chose this. I wouldn't be here if I couldn't handle it, you know? But you're right – I've made some friends and… I just like it here."

Harry nodded. "Sometimes I envy you, you know?" he admitted quietly as they walked down a path to a small forest nearby. "Sometimes I wish I could get away from it all."

"Well, you just did," Zayn said softly, giving him a little smile. "And Harry – my door is always open to you. Whenever you need a break, feel free to come over and I'll protect you from the evil paparazzi."

Harry returned his grin, glancing over at him, but there was a grateful smile on his lips as he nodded. 

They continued in silence for a little while, enjoying the good weather and nature. The question about what had happened to Harry was on the tip of Zayn's tongue, but he thought that maybe it was too soon to ask. Harry would probably mention it sooner or later, if he wanted to talk about it, and Zayn wasn't going to force him to talk about something that might be painful for him; something he wasn't ready to share. For now, he decided to just enjoy Harry's presence. He really had missed him.

On their way back, they stopped at the farmer's market, where Harry went a bit crazy. He was clearly just as passionate about food and cooking as he'd been all those years ago, and if all the fresh vegetables he was buying were any indication, Zayn was in for a real treat later. 

When they got back to Zayn's, Harry decided that he would need the kitchen and that Zayn should go be productive. Zayn raised a brow, amused at being bossed around in his own house, then leaned against the doorway and watched Harry run around, clearly intent on reorganizing his whole kitchen, if the fact that he was taking everything _out_ of the cupboards and fridge instead of putting the new stuff inside, was any indication. 

Zayn shook his head and smiled to himself, but finally followed Harry's instructions and made his way upstairs to his studio. The base coat of his painting had had ample time to dry overnight, so he could get started on fixing a few details. 

He worked for about half an hour before he was interrupted by the sound of loud music coming from the kitchen. He had to grin when he heard Harry sing along to the songs, and could almost picture him down there, using the pepper grinder as a microphone. He sneaked back downstairs, unable to stop himself, and grinned, watching Harry from afar for a little while. His suspicion about the pepper was confirmed, and he tilted his head, amused as he watched Harry dance around the kitchen. 

It was nice to see Harry be so silly and just have fun; Zayn could tell that it had been a while since that had last been the case. Harry had seemed so serious when he'd arrived there the previous night. Now it looked like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and while he still looked thoughtful and withdrawn from time to time, Zayn much preferred this version of Harry to the one he'd got a glimpse of the previous night. 

Harry jumped when he noticed Zayn and laughed, gasping dramatically as he pressed a hand to his chest. "Christ, you scared me," he said, turning down the volume of the music and giving him a grin. 

Zayn smiled. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to."

He looked around at the kitchen, which looked more catastrophic than it had been before, and raised a brow. 

"I'll clean it up!" Harry hurried to promise. "I'm just trying to work out a system here."

Zayn couldn't suppress a grin – to Harry, kitchen-cleaning was apparently serious business, and who was he to contradict him? 

"It's fine," he said, smiling. "Take your time."

Harry leaned against the counter and smiled, looking down to Zayn's hands. "Been painting?"

Zayn nodded. 

"Can I see your paintings at some point?"

Zayn hesitated. "Sure," he said finally. "Gotta look through them, though, throw some away, but… yeah, sure. I'll show you sometime."

"Great," Harry said, giving him a smile. 

Silence fell over them, the only sound the soft music coming from the radio. 

Then, Harry's phone went off and Zayn watched him intently as he reached for it. He noticed Harry's face darkening as he looked at the display and rejected the call, schooling his features and forcing a smile back onto his face as he slid the phone back into his pocket. To other people, he might seem like a great actor, but Zayn could see right through him. 

And that had been interesting. He wasn't sure who'd called Harry, but he obviously didn't want to talk to them, and Zayn's curiosity was killing him. Part of him was tempted to go online and read about what had happened to Harry, but he knew how much crap the press spread about their favourite celebrities, so he was sure that half of what he would read would be untrue anyway. And he'd prefer it if Harry told him. Eventually, he probably would. He might not be ready just yet. Zayn just needed to be patient and wait for Harry to find the right time share his troubles with him. 

Harry licked his lips. "Right, I should get back to work," he said. 

"Do you want any help?" Zayn offered.

Harry shook his head. "Nah, it's fine. I made the mess, so I'll clean it up. I'll see you in three weeks, when I'm done."

Zayn laughed, giving him a wink; then nodded. "All right, see you later then. I'm in the attic if you need me."

"Okay!" Harry chirped, turned the music on and went back to work.

~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~

During the next few days, Zayn was happier than he'd been in a long while. While at first he'd been sure that not being alone anymore would be hard to get used to and that Harry invading his personal space might bother him, but that wasn't the case at all. In fact, it felt as if he'd always been there and it was comforting to have him around again.

They spent a lot of time together; not all of it, but a lot. There were still moments when Harry decided that Zayn needed to go paint while he did something else; usually something that involved reorganizing Zayn's house. Zayn didn't mind, really, even though he already found himself looking for stuff and not finding it because Harry had found a more 'convenient' place for it that didn't seem logical to Zayn at all. But he wasn't going to complain – if this kept Harry's mind off whatever was troubling him, Zayn was perfectly okay with the slight chaos he was causing. 

Going for long walks soon became one of their favourite things to do together; Harry seemed to really like the idyllic surroundings of Zayn's new hometown. Zayn also noticed that his presence seemed to have a soothing effect on Harry; even after only a day of him being there, Harry seemed much more relaxed and happier than he'd been on the night he'd arrived. And while he still hadn't told Zayn about his reason for being there, Zayn could tell that he was close to sharing it with him. 

Zayn didn't even realize that Harry had a good influence on him as well until a friend of his pointed out how much happier he seemed. About a week after Harry had come to him, when they were on their way back home after one of their walks, they ran into Zayn's friends Darcy and Chloe. They immediately noticed that he seemed much more cheerful and light-hearted than he usually was; less serious and morose-looking. Harry was looking for food at the farmer's market, and just when Zayn's friends asked what the reason for his sudden change of demeanour was, Harry appeared at his side with that big smile of his, curls wild, cheeks flushed and they had their answer.

Zayn introduced them, and Harry seemed very interested in getting to know them. Zayn could see that Darcy and Chloe liked him too, and he frowned a little when Chloe gave him a knowing smile, wondering what that was supposed to mean.

A little while later, they had to leave, and Darcy tapped his shoulder. "Don't forget about dinner the day after tomorrow at our place. You're obviously invited too, Harry."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude," Harry said politely, but didn't protest when Chloe and Darcy insisted. Then they were gone, and Harry grinned at Zayn. "Wow, you really _did_ make friends here."

Zayn rolled his eyes and shoved him lightly. "Told you."

~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~

On the night of the dinner, Harry seemed to have a hard time deciding what to wear, and when Zayn pointed out that they were already late, Harry merely whined, "But I want to make a good impression!"

"Harry," Zayn said, touching his shoulders and trying to get him to calm down. "You've already met them and you've already made the best impression you could possibly make. What you wear tonight won't change their opinion of you. Just be yourself and they'll love you."

Harry gave him a little smile. "You really think so?"

Zayn nodded, returning the smile. "Yeah. Now come on – you look fine."

Harry did, in fact, look better than fine. Not wanting to 'stretch' Zayn's clothes, he'd gone shopping a couple of days after his arrival, and was now wearing one of his new outfits, which consisted of jeans and a t-shirt that both clung to his frame. Zayn could barely take his eyes off him, but forced himself not to stare too much when they finally left the house and made their way over to Darcy and Chloe's. 

"You came!" an already slightly tipsy Chloe cheered when they arrived, hugging both of them as if she'd known them both for years. In Zayn's case, this was true, but Harry just seemed to fit right in. 

They made the round of the room, Zayn introducing Harry to all of his friends. They were a party of nine tonight, consisting of Darcy and Chloe and their roommate Patrick, his girlfriend Ruby as well as Vic and Robert, a couple who had been part of their circle of friends long before Zayn had joined them. 

He'd met Darcy at the supermarket a couple of years ago, where they'd had a brief but heated argument about who would get to take home the last pack of spaghetti. In the end, Darcy had given in and opted for another kind of noodles instead, and they'd started talking about something else and had clicked instantly. Soon after, he'd met the rest of them during a night at the pub, and the rest was history. 

After making sure Harry had met all of them, he left him with Ruby, who seemed very interested in Harry's numerous tattoos, having several herself. Zayn, in the meantime, approached Darcy, reaching for a glass of champagne from the tray on the table and watching Harry from afar. 

"So, this is the infamous Harry Styles," said Darcy.

"Yeah," Zayn answered, and couldn't keep a small smile off his face as he watched Harry throw his head back and laugh at something Ruby said. 

"That explains a lot," Darcy said after a moment of silence. 

Zayn tore his eyes off Harry to look at him instead, furrowing his brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Darcy gave him a smile and shook his head. "Nothing, Zayn."

Before Zayn could dig deeper and find out what Darcy was insinuating, Chloe, having returned from the kitchen, announced that dinner was ready. They sat down around the large table while Chloe, Darcy and Patrick made sure they all had enough to eat. 

During dinner, Zayn watched Harry talk to every single one of his friends as if he'd known them forever and he couldn't keep a relieved smile off his face. It wasn't as if he'd been worried that Harry wouldn't fit in; Harry got along with everyone and he had yet to meet a person who, after talking to Harry for even just a minute, didn't like him. 

Zayn was also relieved that none of his friends bugged Harry about what it was like to be an internationally known pop star. Since he wasn't sure what exactly had prompted Harry to run away and leave his life behind for however long, he was glad that no one said anything that could potentially make Harry feel uncomfortable and withdraw. 

After dinner, Harry offered to help clean up, which Chloe accepted gratefully while the others got everything set up for a game of Charades that Ruby insisted on. When Harry and Chloe joined them, Harry being on Zayn's team, obviously, the game started and everyone had a good time. Harry was terrible at it but he wasn't offended at all when no one could guess what he was trying to pantomime; instead, he laughed and shrugged while Zayn looked at him fondly and realised, not for the first time, that he'd really, really missed having Harry around. 

The game died down after a while and they were all gathered around the coffee table with a glass of red wine, chatting and laughing until Patrick went to his bedroom to fetch his guitar. 

Zayn groaned. "Not again…"

Patrick smirked. "Oh come on. We've got two professional singers here tonight; we can't miss out on an opportunity for a duet between the two of you.

Zayn rubbed his face. "You know I don't sing anymore. I'm not even sure I remember how to."

"Bullshit," Vic exclaimed. "Of course you do. Come on, Zayn. I bet Harry doesn't mind."

Harry was leaning against the couch and smiled. "I don't mind."

Zayn looked at him and rubbed the back of his neck, and when Harry gave him an encouraging smile, he couldn't help returning it and giving in. 

"Fine; what do you want us to sing?" he asked, taking a sip of wine and setting his glass down, sitting up a little.

"An old One Direction song," Chloe said instantly. 

"Little Things," Ruby suggested. "That was always my favourite."

Zayn licked his lips and glanced up at Harry who was still smiling, obviously not opposed to the idea. 

"All right then," Zayn murmured, and glanced at Patrick as he began to strum the first chords of the song; the melody filling the room and making everyone turn silent. 

Zayn missed his first cue, but started after clearing his throat, his voice a little rusty at first. He didn't even have to think to remember the lyrics; he doubted he'd ever forget them. Even years later, he still remembered every single one of their songs. The only thing that was a little odd was that it was just the two of them; Niall, Louis and Liam weren't around to sing their parts. But for some reason, they didn't even have to give each other a sign to figure out who would sing which verse; when Zayn was done with his, Harry immediately took over Liam's, without hesitation. 

When Harry's low, raspy voice filled the room, Zayn couldn't take his eyes off him. A shiver ran through him at the sound of Harry's melodic voice and he swallowed hard as he watched his friend. Harry always lost himself in his music, and Zayn had always loved to watch him. Today was no different. 

When the chorus came, Zayn harmonised with Harry effortlessly, their eyes locked as they sang together. Harry gave him a smile, which Zayn returned. Zayn took Louis' verse before Harry sang his own and the chorus was once again sung together. When it came to Niall's part, they both started together but after a moment, Harry's voice faltered and Zayn continued singing to him, letting Harry know that he was here for him, no matter what. Harry stared back at him with an intensity Zayn had never seen in his eyes before, and even though this was an old song Ed had written and shared with them years ago, Zayn couldn't help but notice how true everything he was singing was to him at that moment. The tension between him and Harry had changed at some point during the song, and while before, Zayn had mainly sung the song for their friends because they'd pressured him into it, he was now singing it to Harry, and Harry alone. 

Harry took over the last chorus, their eyes still locked, and Zayn's breath hitched a little when Harry's voice broke at the end of the song. 

The sound of their voices and the guitar ended, and for a long moment, they just sat there, looking at each other, and it was like they were alone in the room. 

Then, their friends broke into loud applause and Zayn finally tore his eyes off Harry, feeling his cheeks heat up as he looked around with a little smile at their friends' enthusiasm. 

"Another one!" Chloe cheered, but Zayn shook his head. 

"It's getting late," he said. "We should probably be heading home."

He glanced at Harry who nodded in confirmation, and after their friends had pouted for a little while, they rose to their feet and said goodbye. 

"Thanks for inviting me again," Harry said when they'd put on their coats and were ready to go. "It was lovely to meet all of you."

Darcy smiled. "You're always welcome here, Harry. We hope Zayn can convince you to join us again at some point," he said, patting Harry's shoulder before escorting them to the door. 

Zayn smiled. "I'll try my best," he promised, then followed Harry out of the building and into the cool December night. 

Silence fell over them on their way home, both of them lost in their own thoughts. 

Zayn, for his part, was trying to process what had happened in there. He and Harry had always been close, but he'd never felt such an intense and almost intimate connection to him before, and he couldn't help but think that something fundamental had changed between them over the course of the past week. 

"Why don't you sing anymore?" Harry asked when they were halfway there. Zayn blinked and looked over at him. Harry was watching him intently, curiously, and Zayn had to think for a moment. 

"Because it wouldn't be the same without you and the band," he said softly. "I was offered a solo career when we decided to split, but it just didn't feel right without you guys."

"Oh," Harry said, nodding. 

Zayn watched him for a moment, then added, "Not that I think there's anything wrong with you continuing on your own. I think it's great that you've made it so far on your own; it just wasn't the right path for me. After being in the limelight for years, I just wanted to be on my own for a while; lead a peaceful life away from everything."

Harry nodded. "I get that," he said softly. "Maybe you had the right idea. Maybe I should've done the same."

Zayn looked over at him, watching him intently. Harry lifted his head and looked up at the stars, his face almost white in the pale light of the full moon. Zayn wanted to ask why; why Harry wished he hadn't become an even bigger star than he'd been before, and why he was so desperate to get away from it all of a sudden. His curiosity was killing him, but he could tell that now wasn't the time to ask.

Hesitating for a second when they'd reached his house, Zayn reached down and wrapped his fingers around Harry's wrist and stopped. Harry turned to face him and looked at him curiously, and Zayn's heart skipped a beat as he wondered what he was doing. He stared at Harry for a long moment, and before he could change his mind, he gently tugged Harry closer and reached up to touch his cheek, a light brush of his fingertips against Harry's cool skin. He closed his eyes as he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips, something he'd been longing to do ever since Harry had showed up on his doorstep.

Harry's lips parted automatically and Zayn felt his heart pounding in his chest when he pulled Harry against him and deepened the kiss slowly, brushing his tongue over Harry's bottom lip. Harry opened his mouth to him, a soft sound escaping his throat as he returned the kiss, hands resting on Zayn's hips as the kiss grew more heated. Their bodies were pressed flush together and Zayn slid his fingers into Harry's curls, holding him close.

Zayn wasn't sure how long they stood there, kissing as if their lives depended on it, but after a while, Harry drew back, their noses brushing as he took a shaky breath. 

"Take me inside," he whispered, eyes dark when Zayn opened his own to meet Harry's. He nodded mutely, stomach flipping as he wrapped his fingers around Harry's and tugged him up the stairs that led to his front door. 

He fumbled with the keys for a moment but managed to unlock the door, and when they were inside the house, he found himself pressed against the door by an eager Harry who was kissing him again, making his head spin and everything fade into the back of his mind. The only things that mattered were Harry's lips and warm, pliant body pressed against his own.

He wasn't sure how they managed to make it up the stairs and into his bedroom, but soon, he was on his back with Harry on top of him, cool fingertips brushing warm skin as he slipped his hands under Harry's shirt, stroking his back slowly. Breaking the kiss only for an instant, he pulled Harry's shirt off, a shallow gasp escaping his lips when Harry took his shirt off as well and pressed their bodies together. 

Zayn's breath hitched in his throat as he pressed his lips to Harry's neck and collarbone, trailing his tongue over his warm skin, tasting him. Harry slipped between his legs and Zayn held him there, trapping him between his thighs while he raked his nails down Harry's back as their lips met in another passionate kiss. 

Harry sat up then, fumbling with the fastenings of his trousers while Zayn reached over to grab a condom and lube from his bedside drawer, fingers trembling. He watched Harry peel his tight jeans off himself, licking suddenly dry lips when he saw Harry's erection clearly outlined through the thin fabric of his dark boxer briefs. He blinked when Harry helped him get his own trousers off, and Zayn wiggled out of them, reaching for Harry the moment their clothes were off. 

A moan escaped his lips when Harry lay down on top of him again, their clothed erections pressed together as he trailed gentle kisses down Zayn's jaw and neck. 

Zayn's breath was coming faster; he trailed his fingers down Harry's muscular back, exploring every inch of the other man's body, conscious of the fact that this may be the first and only time he would get to touch Harry this way. He planned to savour every second of this.

He reached the waistband of Harry's boxers and slipped his fingers beneath the soft fabric, moaning into his neck when he cupped Harry's arse, fingers digging into the soft flesh as Harry ground his hips against Zayn's, creating amazing friction. 

Zayn arched up and moaned when Harry's teeth grazed his collarbone and he traced one of Zayn's tattoos with the tip of his tongue before pressing their mouths together again in a slightly clumsy but sensual kiss. The movements of Zayn's hips were getting erratic and desperate; he tried to get Harry's boxers off him and was relieved when Harry helped him, wiggling out of them. 

His own followed Harry's a moment later and Zayn let out a hoarse moan when their bare erections were pressed together as they continued grinding against each other helplessly. 

He kissed Harry's neck when the other boy reached for the lube and slicked his fingers, and spread his legs when he felt Harry's fingers at his opening. "Ohh," he breathed when they breached him, two fingers pushing past the first ring of muscles and stretching him in a way he hadn't been for so long. He arched up and dug his fingers into Harry's back, holding him firmly while Harry's fingers slid back and forth, preparing him, stretching him, getting him ready. 

When Harry removed them a moment later, Zayn let out a breathless moan and licked his lips when Harry sat up on his knees and pulled the condom on expertly, adding a generous amount of lube before bending over Zayn again. 

He felt Harry's large hands grip his thighs and pull him onto his lap, and Zayn pushed himself up, reaching down between Harry's legs to grip his erection, giving it a couple of firm strokes before he positioned himself above it and slid down on Harry, his eyes fluttering closed. 

The low growl Harry let out was the sexiest thing Zayn had ever heard and he dug his nails into Harry's shoulders as he leaned against him, adjusting to Harry's considerable length inside of him. He swallowed hard, pressed his forehead into Harry's neck as the other man's hands slid down to cup his arse, lifting him up and pulling him down again, guiding Zayn on top of him. They moved together, finding a rhythm instantly, and Zayn's breath was coming shallowly as he stared into Harry's dark eyes. 

He tangled his fingers in his curls as he crushed their lips together in a long, hard kiss, his desperation showing. Harry moaned into his mouth, teeth clashing as he deepened the kiss, his hips thrusting up rhythmically. 

Zayn's cock rubbed against Harry's stomach whenever the other boy pushed up into him and Zayn's head was spinning from the intensity of it all. 

Zayn could feel the familiar tightening sensation in his balls much too soon and gasped in surprise when Harry lowered him back against the pillows, not pulling out of him as he moved on top of him. Zayn spread his legs and wrapped them around Harry's waist, holding onto him almost desperately as Harry began to fuck him in earnest, hitting his prostate over and over again, Zayn's cock trapped between their bodies. 

"Fuck," Zayn hissed, his head falling back and a long, drawn-out moan leaving his lips as he moved with Harry, arching up against him whenever Harry slammed into him, the only sound in the room their panting and breathless moans. 

He stared up at Harry, their eyes locked until Harry bent down to kiss him, his big, strong hands resting on Zayn's thighs for a moment before he slid them up to Zayn's hips, holding them in place as he fucked into him again and again. 

Zayn's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he moaned helplessly when Harry's fingers dug into his skin; he knew there would be bruises there tomorrow and couldn't bring himself to care. 

Their eyes locked again and Harry's hips stilled for a moment, just when Zayn felt his orgasm rushing towards him with a force he'd never experienced before. He whimpered when Harry slammed into him once more, burying himself deep inside him when Zayn's cock twitched and he came all over his stomach and chest, his whole body tensing. Harry followed a moment later with a low groan, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed in pleasure. It was the most beautiful expression Zayn had ever seen. 

Harry stayed like that for a moment, then carefully pulled out and rolled onto his side, throwing an arm over Zayn as they both caught their breaths, exhausted.

Zayn wasn't sure how long they lay there; but at some point, Harry tugged off the condom and tossed it and reached down to pull the sheets over them. He curled into Zayn's side and Zayn leaned into him, eyes closed as he pressed his face into Harry's curls, breathing him in. 

"My mum and stepdad got into an accident," Harry whispered after a moment and Zayn froze, lifting his head to look at him, and his stomach tightened uncomfortably at the implication that something bad might have happened to Anne and her husband. 

"She's fine," Harry added immediately, feeling Zayn's panic and pulling him back down. Zayn relaxed a little when Harry petted his hair, but was still anxious when Harry explained. "She wasn't fine at first; her injuries were quite bad. It happened a couple of weeks ago, and my stepdad…" He trailed off. "He didn't make it. I was in the States at the time, promoting my new album, and I obviously wanted to take the first plane back to England to see her, but my manager wouldn't let me. He wanted me to stay for a day or two, at least, but I couldn't. I had to be there."

Zayn nodded, staying silent and waiting for Harry to continue. "So I left. I saw her when I landed in London; she was devastated. The funeral was a couple of days later, and it was disgusting, Zayn. Paparazzi everywhere, not giving a shit about my privacy, or my mum's. It really made me think. I mean, I've never had a problem with paparazzi before; it's part of the job, as you may remember, but… that was just too much." He paused, licking his lips. "I… spent a couple of days with her, but my manager had obviously caught wind of where I was. I have a busy schedule and can't really allow myself to miss more than a couple of days of work, but I just… I couldn't go back. I wasn't ready. And staying with my mum was impossible, since everyone I know knows where she lives. So I came here."

Silence fell over them as Zayn tried to process everything. He watched Harry's face intently; he looked so small and sad and vulnerable, and Zayn wished he could just envelop him in his arms and protect him from the world. Harry had always had that effect on him; back when they were still in the band, and apparently nothing had changed about that all these years later. 

"I'm sorry," he said eventually, voice soft. He brushed a kiss over the corner of Harry's mouth, and Harry looked back at him, managing a tiny, sad smile that broke Zayn's heart. 

He ran his fingers through Harry's hair, then wrapped himself around him and pulled him close, tucking his head under his chin and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, silently letting him know that it was okay to cry, if he needed it.

He felt Harry relax in his arms and held him there until he fell asleep. Zayn lay awake for a long while after that, watching Harry sleep, but eventually his own fatigue washed over him as well and he relaxed into Harry's body as he fell asleep.

~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~

When Zayn woke up the next morning, he was alone. His heart sank when he realised that Harry had probably gone back to his own life after getting everything off his chest the night before, but a part of him couldn't believe that Harry would just leave after everything that had happened the previous night.

He got out of bed and made his way downstairs, relaxing a little when he found Harry's wallet and phone on the kitchen table; he wouldn't leave those here. He couldn't find Harry anywhere downstairs, however, and frowned as he made his way back upstairs to check Harry's room and the bathroom, but he wasn't there either. Maybe he had gone for a walk?

Zayn glanced out of the window for a moment, then took a breath and made his way up to the attic; he might as well get some painting done when Harry wasn't around. He had a lot to process, and he found it easier to think when he was painting. 

When he entered his studio, however, he froze. 

Harry was standing there, a blanket wrapped around himself as he inspected Zayn's paintings, a thoughtful look on his face. 

Zayn swallowed hard and rubbed the back of his neck before clearing his throat. 

Harry flinched and whirled around, giving him a sheepish smile. "Hey… sorry. I couldn't contain my curiosity anymore… are you mad?"

Zayn shook his head, even though he glanced at the painting Harry had been looking at anxiously. "No," he murmured, a blush gracing his cheeks. "I'm not mad."

Harry turned back to the painting, tracing it with a finger. "They're all of me," he observed quietly, eyes fastened on the paintings in front of him before he glanced over his shoulder at Zayn. 

Zayn looked down and nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly because they were. Whenever he let his mind drift and lost himself in his art, he ended up painting Harry. He hadn't been sure why, exactly, and had figured that he just missed him, but now he had a feeling his subconscious was trying to tell him something. 

"Some of these are quite dark," Harry stated as he moved to the other pile of paintings. "All dark blue and black and grey, and that violent red…"

He stared at them for a moment, tracing a few lines with his fingertips before letting go and approaching Zayn, slipping his arms around his waist and looking at him seriously. "I just realised that in all this time I've been here, I haven't really asked if you're okay. So… are you okay, Zayn?"

Zayn blushed under Harry's intense green eyes and nodded. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just… I guess I just like using dark colours?"

It was a bit of a lie, and he was pretty sure that Harry could tell that he wasn't being entirely honest with him. The paintings reflected how he felt most days; they represented his loneliness and the huge hole inside of him. Something was missing from his life, and it was only now that Zayn realised what it was. 

The only time he ever used light, bright colours was when he painted Harry. And the previous night had been eye-opening on more than one level, and he finally knew what it was he was missing in his life. He could've realised that years ago if he had been a little more observant. The pieces of the puzzle had been right there; he could've pieced them together easily. 

Or maybe he _had_ known all along and just hadn't wanted to see it. Because really, there wasn't much he could've done about it if Harry hadn't appeared on his doorstep one evening. 

Despite the fact that Harry could probably tell that he wasn't being completely honest, he didn't insist and just leaned in for a soft kiss. Zayn managed a little smile. 

"Are you hungry? I could make us breakfast."

Zayn nodded. "Yeah, sure, that sounds good. I was going to take a shower, so… I'll see you downstairs in a few minutes?"

Harry nodded. "Perfect."

He leaned in and pecked Zayn's lips briefly before leaving him there to wonder what things were going to be like from now on, and how long Harry was going to stay, and what all of this even meant. They had slept together, and for Zayn at least, it had been one of the most amazing experiences of his life. He wasn't sure if Harry felt the same way about it, though. Last night, he'd thought he _did_ , but maybe it was just something Harry had needed at that moment and Zayn had been there and it hadn't meant anything. 

He sighed heavily and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower. When he'd taken off his clothes, he looked at himself in the mirror and smiled when he saw the bruises on his hips and the huge love bite on his neck. At least he would have those to remember his night with Harry, at least for a little while. 

He showered, taking his time to wash the sweat and dried come from the previous night off his body, and pulled on some comfortable clothes when he was done. He dried his hair and brushed his teeth, and finally made his way into the kitchen. 

The fact that the house didn't smell like coffee and eggs should've given it away, but Zayn was still surprised and a little crushed when he entered the kitchen and found it just the way it had looked before. Harry's wallet and phone weren't on the table anymore, and a glance outside told Zayn that Harry had left, since his car was gone as well. 

Zayn sat down hard on a chair and buried his face in his hands as his question from before was answered: Their night together didn't mean anything to Harry.

~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~

For the next three weeks, Zayn was in a really bad place and could barely make himself get out of bed. He stayed inside at all times, only making his way to the bathroom or kitchen when his body required him to. He spent most of his time either in bed or in his studio, painting the same dark stuff he'd painted before Harry had come into his life, because as far as he was concerned, nothing had changed. For a little while, he'd hoped Harry would be a part of his life again, but obviously that had been an illusion.

He'd found the courage to call Harry once but his phone had been switched off and he hadn't tried again. He just couldn't. He wasn't lucky when it came to love and relationships; the only thing he'd ever been good at were short-lived, casual flings. Every time he'd been in love, he'd ended up getting his heart broken, and he just couldn't bear to hear Harry confirm what he already knew in his heart – that their night together had meant nothing to him and that Harry didn't return his feelings.

Over the course of those three weeks, his doorbell rang a few times, but he didn't bother opening the door. He knew his friends were probably worried and trying to get him to spend time with him, but he couldn't muster the strength to act normal for them right now. After a little while, he even turned his phone off as well and just ignored the outside world until he was ready to face it again.

One evening, he couldn't stay inside anymore. He needed fresh air, so he showered, got dressed, and went for a walk. It was freezing outside; it had started snowing a couple of days ago, but the biting cold felt good on his skin. It woke him up and made him feel a little better, and more alive than he'd felt for the past few weeks. 

He was shivering when he returned home after a good hour, looking forward to a night in front of the telly with a cup of warm cocoa.

As he walked the path back up to his house, he stopped suddenly, freezing when he saw a familiar figure on his doorstep. He stared for a moment and his heart skipped a beat as he carefully approached the house, unable to trust his eyes. It couldn't be. 

"Harry?" he asked breathlessly when he stood at the foot of the stairs leading up to his door, making the other man whirl around and flash him a bright smile. 

"I thought you weren't home! I was getting worried here," Harry said, and Zayn let out a shaky breath. 

It really was him. Harry was here. Harry had come back. 

Harry was making his way back down the stairs and let out a squeak when he slipped on the last step and fell straight into Zayn's arms, which came up automatically to keep Harry from landing on his arse. 

The sudden closeness made Zayn's head spin and he stared at Harry, swallowing hard. Harry's hands were on his shoulders and he was smiling at him, looking so much better and more lively than he had a few weeks ago. Part of Zayn's brain was still trying to process the fact that Harry was here – he had a hard time believing it. It didn't make any sense. 

Before he could say anything, however, Harry leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth and Zayn felt welcome warmth spread through his body at the feel of Harry's lips against his own. He tightened his arms around the younger man and pulled him close, licking into his mouth and kissing him hard, needing this after thinking he wouldn't ever see him again for so long. 

His body relaxed into Harry's embrace and he just wanted to give in and kiss Harry forever – but at the same time, the tension of the past three weeks washed over him and he found himself suddenly getting irrationally angry. He drew back, breaking the kiss, and tried to push Harry away weakly. Harry didn't let go of him. 

"What are you doing here?" Zayn hissed. "You didn't even call – I thought you were done with me!"

Harry looked at him with a patient smile. "I did call. Every day. But your phone was turned off and I didn't know if you had a landline, so I couldn't reach you elsewhere. At first, I thought you were avoiding me; then I got really worried about you, Zayn. I thought something had happened to you."

"Oh," Zayn murmured, swallowing hard. "Is that why you're here? Checking if I'm still alive? Cause as you can see, I am, so if that's the only reason why you're here, you can leave again."

"Do you want me to?" Harry asked softly, a hint of hesitation in his voice. 

Zayn stared into Harry's eyes for a long time, wanting to be strong and tell Harry he didn't need him, but in the end, he kind of did. He looked down and shook his head. "No."

Harry pressed his warm cheek against his cold one, then tilted his chin up and gave him another deep kiss. Zayn whimpered and melted into it, holding onto Harry for dear life. When they broke apart a moment later, Harry rubbed the tip of his nose against Zayn's, cool fingers brushing the back of his neck. 

"Merry Christmas, Zayn," he whispered against his lips, nipping at his bottom lip. 

Zayn swallowed hard. "Is it Christmas? I didn't know," he murmured. 

Harry nodded and Zayn shivered, pressing closer to Harry, seeking the warmth of the other man's body. Harry noticed and rubbed his arms gently. "Maybe we should go inside?"

Zayn took a breath and nodded. He took Harry into the house, closing the door behind him and shrugging off his coat. Harry did the same, and Zayn watched him, rubbing his cold fingers together. 

A moment later, Harry was close again, taking Zayn's hands into his own large ones, bringing them up to his lips and kissing his knuckles gently, never breaking the eye contact. Zayn stared at him and swallowed hard; there were still a million questions on his mind, but he was so happy that Harry was here right now that he couldn't bring himself to ask them. Not right now anyway. 

Harry pulled him into the kitchen and Zayn watched him make them some hot tea, which he then took into the living room. Zayn followed him mutely, not wanting to ruin this by saying something stupid. He sat down when Harry patted the spot next to him on the couch, whispered a soft 'thanks' when he accepted the cup of tea and took a few careful sips. 

When Harry set his cup down, Zayn did the same and looked at him, feeling oddly shy and insecure. His stomach fluttered when Harry wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close, brushing his hair out of his face as he cupped his cheeks between his hands.

"I missed you," Harry whispered. "And I'm not technically supposed to be here, but I couldn't bear the thought of spending Christmas Eve away from you."

He was silent for a moment, searching Zayn's eyes, and letting out a sigh. "You're mad because I left without a word, and I can't blame you. I just… I suddenly had this random impulse to go back, and I knew that if I stayed around long enough to say goodbye, I wouldn't be able to go back at all. Being here with you that week was the best I've felt in a long time, and the urge to just quit everything and stay here with you was overwhelming, but in the end… I've got responsibilities and I couldn't just abandon everything. I've decided to take a step back next year, though, because it's all a little too much for me at this point."

He touched his cheek. "I'm sorry."

Zayn looked at him and could tell that Harry was serious; he forgave him right away, because what Harry was basically saying was that Zayn meant as much to Harry as Harry meant to him, and that more than made up for the past three weeks. He still couldn't quite wrap his mind around the fact that Harry was here; that he _wanted_ to be here, more than he wanted to be anywhere else. 

"It's okay," he murmured when Harry kept looking at him intently. He slipped his arms around Harry and hugged him, burying his face in his chest and holding onto him. He rubbed the tip of his nose against Harry's warm neck, breathing him in and feeling himself relax into Harry's arms. 

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he tightened his arms around him when Harry brushed a kiss over the sensitive spot behind his ear. 

"I hope you don't plan on kicking me out," Harry murmured into it, warm breath ghosting over Zayn's skin. "I took the last train here since I didn't want to drive because of the snow, so if you toss me out, I'll have to stay out in the cold until who knows when…"

Zayn drew back and looked into Harry's eyes, noticing the amused glint in them, and shook his head. "No. You're not going anywhere."

He stared at Harry's lips, then leaned in and captured them in a hard kiss, showing him how much he needed him, how relieved he was to have him back. Harry let out a surprised moan but answered the kiss instantly, sinking his hands into Zayn's hair. He pushed him down on the couch and got on top of him, and Zayn let out a shaky breath, not so secretly enjoying Harry's eagerness; it proved once again that Harry really wanted to be here; that he wanted _him_. 

Zayn held him close, sliding his still-cool fingertips under Harry's shirt and smiling at Harry's sharp intake of breath at the coldness on his warm skin. Zayn followed Harry's spine, then touched his shoulder blades, kneading his sides when he let his hands travel down Harry's back. 

Harry reached for the hem of Zayn's jumper and tugged it off him, pressing his lips to Zayn's neck and leaving a mark – similar to the one that had faded several days ago. Zayn craned his neck to give him better access while his own fingers worked on the buttons of Harry's shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. Harry shrugged it off and cupped his cheeks to kiss Zayn's lips again, pressing them together and making Zayn arch up into the warmth of Harry's body. 

Their trousers came off a moment later, followed by their underwear, and Zayn let out a soft sigh at the feel of Harry between his legs again. He slid his hands down to his arse and squeezed it, pulling Harry down against him as he rutted up against him almost desperately, legs wrapped around the other man's waist. 

"I missed you so much," Harry whispered into his neck, licking a trail around the shell of Zayn's ear. "Thought about you every night."

Zayn moaned when Harry ground his hips against his own, their erections rubbing against each other as they moved together. Zayn held onto Harry and sucked on his bottom lip, staring into his eyes. 

He wanted to tell Harry how much he meant to him, but the words caught in his throat when he saw Harry's expression – his eyes said so much more than any words could. Zayn returned the fond look and could see the recognition in Harry's eyes; his face lit up a moment later and he crushed their lips together in another bruising kiss. 

It didn't take long for Zayn to come; after a few more rough thrusts of Harry's hips, they both came in quick succession, moans muffled by their kiss. Harry's hips slowed down as he lowered himself on top of Zayn, covering his whole body with his own broader one. He slipped his arms under Zayn and held onto him, and Zayn let out a shaky breath as he rested his chin on Harry's shoulder, stroking his back languidly. 

He was silent for a long moment, just basking in Harry's presence and warmth and smiling occasionally because he just couldn't grasp that Harry was actually _here_ , but finally, he had to ask. 

"You're not gonna leave then?" 

Harry lifted his head and looked down at him, shaking his head. "Not until I have to," he whispered. "And when I do, I will let you know and possibly take you with me, so… no. I'm not leaving you again, Zayn."

Zayn's eyes fluttered closed when Harry leaned in for another soft, slow kiss, and finally felt the tension leave his body because he knew Harry was telling the truth. 

He was here for good.


End file.
